


Acerbating Author

by truth_seeker_1789



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Chuck Shurley, Bisexual Chuck Shurley, Canon Compliant, Chuck Shurley adopts all the local strays, Chuck Shurley is God, Difficulties in Dating Deities, Domestic, Domestic Disputes, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Gender Neutral, God is All Powerful, God is a dick, I'm Going to Hell, Living Together, No Spoilers, POV Second Person, Prose Poem, Reader-Insert, Writer Chuck Shurley, Writers, as far as I'm concerned, oh wel, this could be any character really, very minor though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_seeker_1789/pseuds/truth_seeker_1789
Summary: Every relationship comes with its trials and tribulations.You should have known that dating God would be no exception.





	Acerbating Author

*

 

 

 

_The Lord is testing me._

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain with each teasing breath behind your ear, with every dirty sock that never makes the basket, with every circle left on the newspaper from overflowing, forgotten coffee mugs.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain in how the low timbre pronouncing your name curls your toes when it's whispered in the earliest morning light, in the skip of your pulse at the taunting glimpse of skin during the stretch of tired arms, in the giddy rush coursing through your veins as facial hair presses against your cheek.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain between the forgotten dishes, between the labyrinth of half-scrawled sticky notes coating the fridge, between the forgotten grocery lists and appointment reminders and half-formed listless lyrics, between the chaotic piles of rough drafts and rent receipts.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain with each open cereal box, with each crumb on the couch, with each ink stain on calloused fingers.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain in every ironic shirt, in every time the rubbish bin overflows, in every stray that passes through your door.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain as strong arms surround you, as a possessive growl echoes through the earth and the skies and your chest, as fingers that have created epics and destroyed galaxies nearly carve their way through your skin, as damning, commanding, demanding, pleading lips sear divinity against your own.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain in the languid brush of fingertips across your shoulders, in the fiery exchanges that weave between you in quaking eruptions and scathing intent, in the playful movement of dancing feet.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain in the frantic pleas desperately clawing and begging to fall from your lips, in the broken breaths as you finally fall apart, in the shaking sighs as you are reborn again and again and again.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain as you watch neon light halo mussy hair, as the dust tumbles and spins and falls around world-weary shoulders, as the steady clacking of keyboard keys creates tranquil concertos among the comforting backdrop of aged oak and lingering drafts of ale.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain between each patient strum on ancient guitar, between each kiss left lingering on your skin, between each mischievous smile creeping slowly just before Nature shudders and sighs and parts and dances all around you.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain with each vehement condemnation flying from your lips, with every sparking retort that leaves you speechless, with every shaking, steadfast apology weaving around you in longing litanies and despondency.

 

You're certain of it.

 

You're certain as wisdom and light and adoration are whispered between each breath, as the very hands that have razed generations raise you to a pedestal transcending sempiternity, as your tenderness and devotion bring silence to ferocious waves and falling stars and furious gales.

 

You're certain of it.

 

The Lord _is_ testing you.

 

And try as you might, you can't help but prostrate His name each and every time.

 

 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another thing I scribbled at work during the last ten minutes of the day.
> 
> I've been courting the Devil; I might as well shoot higher.
> 
> And yes- I've seen "Moriah," and yes- I adored the plot twist. I'm more impressed that the writers had the gall to turn the entire franchise on its head that way. Never before have I been so content with a finale.
> 
> Chuck is still within my top five favourite characters from this show; I strongly detest God, but I absolutely adore Chuck. I'm assuming this fic was birthed from that nuanced sense of attachment and my recent delve into YouTube to acquire more Rob Benedict covers.
> 
> He's too handsome; I can't cope.
> 
> Anyway-
> 
> I haven't truly read through this to edit, probably never will. I hope you enjoyed the- Whatever this was, really.
> 
> Imagings of what living with a bisaster celestial would be like? My own morbid sense of gratification? A passing daydream of finding someone who can elicit so much emotion just by merely existing in this world?
> 
> Idk.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments are love. Comments are life.


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